


Let Me Take You Away

by sarahatqt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahatqt/pseuds/sarahatqt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Men. Not vampires or werewolves or the sorts of monsters they were used to. Which probably made them worse—the fact that they had the ability to choose right from wrong and had still chosen to drug his younger brother, to beat him within an inch of his life, to strip him naked, hold him down, and take turns....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Take You Away

It was times like these that had Dean savoring every moment he'd spent in hell. There were so many ways to open a person up, to make them scream, to make them watch. And with Gabriel's nifty resurrection trick, he could do it as many times to the three men that were currently chained in Bobby's basement as his dark heart desired.

Men. Not vampires or werewolves or the sorts of monsters they were used to. Which probably made them worse—the fact that they had the ability to choose right from wrong and had still chosen to drug his younger brother, to beat him within an inch of his life, to strip him naked, hold him down, and take turns....

Dean twisted the knife that was lodged in the third man's throat, teeth clenching as warm, thick blood gushed over his hand. The other two men were long dead, glassy eyes still wide with fear. A final wet gurgle, and the man went lax in the chair he was tied to. 

With a rough tug, Dean extracted the knife, tossing it carelessly on a wooden table that held several more well-used items and grabbing a clean rag. 

“Gabriel!” he shouted as he wiped red stains from his fingers. 

Almost immediately, the angel appeared in the center of the room, nose wrinkling as the smell assaulted him. “You know,” he started as nonchalantly as possible, though the tone didn't make his eyes sparkle like it usually did, “I'm right upstairs. You don't need to—” 

“Again,” the hunter interrupted, letting the rag fall to the floor with a wet plop and turning to a different table, one that held twice as many weapons—none of them used. 

“This is the fourth time.”

Only the fourth? Dean could have sworn it was more than that.... “I didn't ask for a count.”

“And how much longer do you plan on doing this?”

Dean scowled and snatched up a near-empty whiskey bottle, downing its contents in one pull. “I think the question is: Why the hell aren't you down here getting your hands dirty?”

Gabriel's fists clenched. “He asked me not to.”

“And Sammy's got you whipped, that it?” The hunter wavered on his feet. He hadn't slept for days, hadn't stopped until he found the bastards, hadn't even stopped to breathe before he had them writhing under his knives. And the alcohol probably wasn't helping, either. “Fine, go sit on the sidelines like Cas.”

There was a short pause. Gabriel rolled his shoulders and sighed. “You're just going to let him keep watching, then?” He gestured towards the stairs, and Dean's dull gaze shifted.

Sam sat on the second-to-last step, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around legs that were pressed against his chest. It seemed wrong that someone as large and lanky as Sam Winchester should look so small, so meaningless. 

Dean didn't even flinch. “Until he tells me to stop.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Who's whipped, here?”

“Gabe,” Sam said softly, his voice as small as he looked. “Please.”

The angel's face crumpled. “You can't keep doing this to yourself.” He held out his hand. “Come with me. Come upstairs.”

Sam's fingers curled around the splintering, wooden banister, his knuckles whitening. “I don't want to go upstairs.” 

“Then where, Sam?” Gabriel pleaded. “I'll take you anywhere. Name the place.”

Closing his eyes, the young man shook his head frantically. “No,” he said breathlessly. 

“Sam—” 

“I can still feel them,” Sam whispered, his entire body shuddering. “They're still...on me. In me.” With a swallow, he opened his eyes, tears tracking their way down his face. “Please, Gabe...Please, just leave.”

Gabriel stared at the young man for only a moment longer before closing the fingers of the hand he still had held out in Sam's direction and snapping. He disappeared, and three dead hearts stuttered back to life.

Dean glanced in Sam's direction, making no move until the younger man nodded unsteadily and settled back against the stairs. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, stepping forward as defeated groans and muffled sobs echoed in the dim basement, “let's get started...again.”


End file.
